


When In Pegasus...

by partypaprika



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-08-14 02:07:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20184475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partypaprika/pseuds/partypaprika
Summary: “Why do they think that we’re married?” Rodney asked.Ronon shrugged. “Because I told them that we were.” Rodney waited expectantly for more. When none was forthcoming, he gestured impatiently at Ronon who rolled his eyes. “McKay, I think that we have more important things to focus on here. Namely, getting out of here.”“No, no, no, no,” Rodney said. “This is the most important thing on my plate right now.”





	When In Pegasus...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shopfront](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/gifts).

> shopfront, I loved your marriage prompts! I hope that you enjoy!

Everything (or to be specific, a very particular subset of everything) started on that god-forsaken rock of a planet, MT8-B61, where the local inhabitants, the Crefali, had found a ZPM that they were willing to trade in exchange for some assistance in wrangling their Ancient gadgetry.

It had been one of those run-of-the-mill missions, where John flirted with the local female leader and promised to sort out those pesky Ancient issues through Lantean assistance. Such assistance came in the form of sending Rodney and Ronon off to retrieve the ZPM while John and Teyla worked through the various ancient gadgets around the village.

Vaya, a scruffy Crefalian teenager who desperately needed a good shave, led Rodney and Ronon through the main Crefali town, which looked vaguely medieval in the way that so many of the Pegasus towns did, until they reached a small structure that resembled nothing so much as a hastily constructed outhouse.

“The ZPM is in there?” Rodney asked and peered into the structure skeptically. Through the shadowed darkness, he made out a hole in the ground and a ladder that led to some unknown place below. “Are you sure?”

Vaya nodded but pointedly came no closer. “They found it down in the cave. You have to go down to enter the cave.”

“They couldn’t have spruced it up? Made it look a little less like the death trap that I’m sure it is?” Would it have been too unreasonable to put up some lights?

“Yes,” the boy said, scratching the back of his calf casually. “People don’t really want to go down into the cavern. They say that it’s haunted.”

Rodney resisted groaning. The ZPM most likely experienced power fluctuations since it had been left unmaintained for such a long time, which would explain all manner of ‘hauntings’. He looked over at Ronon who was checking out the structure. Ronon raised an eyebrow, expressing his skepticism of its structural integrity. Rodney sent back his own look of agreement.

But, there was nothing to be done for it. Rodney would put up with a lot for a functioning ZPM and that included but was not limited to entering haunted houses.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Rodney said and headed inside.

Before Rodney could start descending the ladder, the boy cleared his throat and looked out into the air above Rodney’s head. “Do you need me to stay here?” he asked.

Rodney threw a look at Ronon, who nodded to indicate that he was fine to handle anything that might come up. The boy sighed in relief when Rodney told him that they would be fine and then left so quickly, it almost gave Rodney pause about going down.

“Are we doing this?” Ronon asked and in lieu of answering, Rodney started climbing down, Ronon just behind him.

Descending the ladder revealed a large cavern about twenty feet below the ground. Pragmatically, the Crefali had left torches up, dimly illuminating the weathered rocks stripped with various colors and the well-worn ground. Rodney couldn’t see any water, but he could hear faint dripping coming from somewhere and there was a passage out at the far end of the cavern that likely led to the source of the water. Near that same end, a cluster of bright crystals pulsed dim beams of reddish light. Everything smelled of mildew and rot—in short, with the rumor of hauntings, just a few dead bodies from being a B disaster movie.

“At least we don’t have to go searching,” Rodney said, inwardly relieved that they didn’t have to go hunting around for the ZPM, and the two of them went over to examine it.

“We never get to just pick it up and walk away,” Ronon said. The ZPM rested fully embedded in the wall. Rodney circled it trying to see if there was an easy way to remove it that he was missing, but they didn’t appear to be so lucky.

Rodney reminded himself that it would have been suspicious if it had been too easy—the Crefali willing to give it up and it was pain-free to take? Unlikely. So, Rodney and Ronon laid out their packs and pulled out a special acid concentrate that the chemists had whipped up to partially weaken the stone around the ZPM. Carefully, Ronon started applying it.

From a distance, Rodney heard the sound of something moving, almost a dragging against the ground. “Do you hear that?” he asked, quickly scanning the area around them.

Ronon stopped and looked around as well. “Hear what?”

“There was a sound,” Rodney said. “A few seconds ago—probably just the water further along in the cave.” It definitely wasn’t anything haunted. There was no such thing as ghosts or the supernatural. Rodney’s spider sense felt less certain than his brain, but logic didn’t always play into Rodney’s spider sense.

They got back to work and then, another few minutes later, there it was again, something rustling this time. “I know that I heard it this time,” Rodney said.

“Well, maybe, if you weren’t talking, I would hear it too,” Ronon said, to which Rodney glared daggers because first, that was rude, and second, _it had been when Rodney wasn’t talking_! Except that when they both fell silent, they heard nothing but the sound of occasionally dripping water.

“Fine, fine,” Rodney said. “I’m imagining it—yes, I am going crazy.”

Ronon huffed out a laugh and cuffed Rodney on the shoulder, letting his hand rest there for a second, before he turned back to the rock. There was a long waiting period before the acid started yielding results, so Rodney sat down to relax while they waited. Eventually as the concentrate started working, the stone around the ZPM beginning to crumble, out of nowhere, there was the sound of shoes—many shoes. Rodney and Ronon jumped up at once, the concentrate spilling onto the ground onto Ronon’s foot, causing him to immediately fall over, groaning in pain.

Rodney had his gun out, managing it without even fumbling, even as he looked down at Ronon, but when the five men stormed into the cavern from the passageway, Rodney took a deep breath and just focused on shooting.

He managed to nail the first man in the chest and he fell down hard, but then three more men behind him ran out, their guns drawn and shooting. From Rodney’s left, he saw Ronon fumbling with his gun to get it out. Rodney viciously cursed the Crefali as he shot back as these men—of course the Crefali would lure the Lanteans to their planet with the promise of a ZPM in order to get them vulnerable. But Rodney pushed himself to let his anger fall to the wayside like Teyla had taught him so that he could focus on the men. By now, he and Ronon had taken what cover they could behind a few small rock outcroppings in the cave, but they were scant protection against these strangers, who kept shooting as they drew closer and closer.

And then, Rodney’s heart stopped as he heard a grunt of pain and turned to see that Ronon had been stunned. 

“Shit,” Rodney said and then he felt the sharp electric snap of being shot once, then twice, and the taste of metal filled his mouth before everything turned off.

When Rodney woke, he was in some kind of holding room in a spaceship—the slight movement in the walls indicating that they were flying through space. Probably at hyper speeds. Dim light barely illuminated the room and Rodney let out an exhalation of relief when he saw that Ronon had also been placed in the room. He sat on a thick bench a few feet away from Rodney, his eyes trained on Rodney, who slowly realized that he’d been laid out on a bed.

Rodney saw that Ronon’s foot was bandaged, but he otherwise appeared unharmed and an overwhelming sense of relief—knowing that Ronon was ok—made him feel weak all over again.

It took another few seconds for his strength to return. When it finally did, Rodney inhaled deeply and then pushed himself up, his muscles spasming from the aftereffects of an electric shock. Only when he went to try and soothe the pain in his back did he feel the chafing along his wrists. They must have bound him before they put him in the cell. A wave of fear swept through him.

“Rodney?” Ronon said, immediately standing and coming next to Rodney.

“I’m here,” Rodney said and his voice grated harshly against his throat. Ronon exhaled and dropped down to pull Rodney into a hug. Rodney let himself rest against Ronon, his massive arms encircling Rodney and keeping the world contained to just the two of them.

They stayed there, breathing as one for long enough that Rodney lost track of time. Eventually Ronon pulled back and looked Rodney in the eye. “Rodney, these people have kidnapped you because they claim to need help fixing some malfunctioning technology in their home world. I tried to tell them that we would come, as long as they didn’t kidnap you.” Ronon grimaced. “They didn’t seem convinced.”

Rodney felt the familiar upswing of panic set in and he took a deep but futile breath to try and calm down. Ronon gently rubbed Rodney’s back in soothing circles. “Hey, I tried to leave a message for Teyla and John before they took us. I don’t know where we’re going but they will figure it out. Ok?”

Rodney wanted to trust Ronon’s words. After all, how many times had their team stepped in to save the day? This would be just another crazy Pegasus story to add to the stack.

Heavy bootsteps sounded from around the corner along with the unique jangle of machinery and clothing that always heralded military members. Funny how one could travel halfway across the known universe and still recognize military.

Immediately Ronon went stiff. Rodney wanted to ask if these people were going to kill the two of them—but that would only put the burden on Ronon to comfort him. So Rodney kept his mouth closed. Yet, some of his fear must have shown because Ronon reached down to hold one of Rodney’s hand and Rodney found himself gripping it like a lifeline.

The lone door to the room opened, admitting five men and women in military garb, stun guns holstered at their sides.

“Dr. McKay?” the leader, a fresh-faced woman with dark eyes and skin, addressed deferentially to Rodney.

“Yes?” Rodney said warily.

“We cannot express how sorry we are to have inconvenienced you,” she said. “Let me introduce myself, I am Captain Rowen, and I have been tasked with bringing you back to our planet. I wish that we were meeting under better circumstances, but we could think of no other way. We have heard stories of your technological prowess and desperately need your assistance on our home planet.”

As Captain Rowen’s words sunk in, Rodney’s immediate reaction went straight to disgust. “Are you kidding? I would have done that without you abducting me and Ronon.” Rodney said, standing up. Immediately, five guns pointed at him and Rodney took an involuntary step back as Ronon rose with a growl, ready to defend even in the face of terribly bad odds.

“Ok, let’s just calm down, everyone,” Rodney said.

“I’m sorry, Dr. McKay,” Captain Rowen said. “This is too important to us—we cannot risk it. The fate of our planet and people rest on your shoulders. But I meant what I said. We are so honored to have you with us—please know that you and your husband are our honored guests while you are with us.”

The world seemed to turn three half-rotations and Rodney stopped short, the word ringing unknown. “Husband?” he asked. Captain Rowen smiled bashfully at Rodney. Rodney’s brain fritzed again. Maybe it was the lingering effects of the electric shock, confusing Rodney’s nervous system.

“We have brought your husband along as a token of good faith,” she said, as if that merited some large amounts of achievement points.

“Ronon?” Rodney asked and then yelped as Ronon tightened his grip around Rodney’s hand, telling him to _shut the hell up right now_. So Rodney did. “Yes, my husband.” And then Rodney sat down before his legs decided to make that decision without his consent. Ronon joined him on the bed, pressed up close to Rodney.

At that, the soldiers eased up, the guns going back to their sides, as Captain Rowen looked hopefully at Rodney. “We expect to arrive at our destination by tomorrow. If there is anything that we can do to make your trip more enjoyable, please let us know.”

Ronon tensed up—probably gearing up for his usual charm and brusqueness—and so Rodney elbowed him.

“Yep, got it, hospitality,” Rodney said. “We appreciate it—could we have some time to ourselves for a bit though?”

“Of course,” Captain Rowen said and nodded to the other soldiers who all immediately backed out of the cell and then disappeared. Rowen, as the leader, was the last to leave, still smiling at Rodney and Ronon.

For a long moment, neither Rodney nor Ronon moved. And then the content of that brief, but frustrating, conversation crammed its way into Rodney’s brain and Rodney slowly turned to look at Ronon.

“Why do they think that we’re married?” Rodney asked.

Ronon shrugged. “Because I told them that we were.” Rodney waited expectantly for more. When none was forthcoming, he gestured impatiently at Ronon who rolled his eyes. “McKay, I think that we have more important things to focus on here. Namely, getting out of here.”

“No, no, no, no,” Rodney said. “This is the most important thing on my plate right now.”

“Why are you making such a big deal about this?” Ronon asked. Rodney kept glaring at him so Ronon sighed. “When I came to, they were tying me up—to leave me there. I needed to find a way to get them to take me too. I gambled and told them that they had to take me as well since we were married. It worked.”

Even emotionally dumb-as-rocks Rodney heard the implicit message in there. Ronon had insisted on coming so that he could protect Rodney. Rodney felt his face heat up in a weird mixture of embarrassment, gratitude and affection.

“Right,” Rodney said. “So, they’ve kidnapped us—well me, really, with you as a side benefit—for some technological fix. Why is it always me that people think of? I mean, I can’t fault them for their thinking—if you’re going to kidnap someone, it may as well be the best.”

Ronon looked like he was trying to suppress a laugh—which frankly, Rodney believed was uncalled for. “Maybe we should think about how to escape?” Ronon said, once he had a straight face.

Rodney looked around the cell—it was sparsely furnished with the one bed and a bench. There was a small area in the corner where they could relieve themselves (such privacy!) and a sink to freshen up. It actually wasn’t the worst space jail that Rodney had been locked up in, all things considered. Everything was pretty much bolted down, so the likelihood of removing the sink and using that as some type of material seemed pretty thin.

“Unless that sink magically turns into a computer, there’s not a lot that I can do here,” Rodney said. “But, on the bright side, they’re not Wraith.”

But the Wraith weren’t the be-all and end-all of evil in Pegasus Galaxy and Rodney’s mind leaped to find alternatives for what these people could be using Rodney for. Forced labor—forced to use his brains to increase warfare—forced to fight against his friends. The possibilities were endless and Rodney couldn’t stop his body from tensing up, his fists clenching in panic. That wasn’t to mention how many different races out there could find a reason to torture Rodney for one thing or another that he or Atlantis had done to them.

“Hey, hey,” Ronon said, stepping in, and when then that didn’t get Rodney’s attention, he placed his hands on Rodney’s shoulders and leaned until their foreheads were almost touching. “McKay—Rodney—we’re going to be ok. We will get out of here. Breath with me,” he directed to Rodney and began taking slow, deep breaths. Eventually the black spots in the corner of Rodney’s vision started receding and his breaths evened out.

When he finally had himself under control, Ronon moved back, putting a few inches space between them, but his gaze never left Rodney’s face.

“I’m ok now,” Rodney said. Nevertheless, Ronon gently helped Rodney back to the bed where they both sat down. “You would think that after so many kidnappings, I would have this routine down.” It came out weakly but Ronon smiled all the same and it warmed something within.

They arrived on a planet about twelve hours after Rodney had woken up. They’d been served reasonably good food and water and been given every impression that their forced hosts meant what they’d said. But Ronon and Rodney were still wary when Captain Rowen’s squad retrieved them from their cell prior to the landing and directed them to the main bay where everyone else seemed to be waiting.

The main advantage of their change in location was the view—Rodney was able to watch the new world come into focus. Filled with trees and lakes, it looked like many of the other Pegasus planets that they’d visited before. In the distance, Rodney could make out a gleaming metallic city.

They landed in an over-large green field that had likely been cleared for such extra-terrestrial comings and goings. On three sides, it was boarded by dense forest, but on the fourth, there was a road, presumably leading to the city, and a large group of people gathered, with no small number of military personnel. Curiouser and curiouser, he thought to himself. Knowing the Ancients, there probably was a stargate somewhere around, but Rodney couldn’t see any sign of it which made their escape plans significantly more difficult.

Immediately upon setting foot on the ground, the full waiting delegation met them. “Dr. McKay, we are delighted to meet you,” an older heavyset man, his hair tied back in thick braids, said, bowing.

Rodney was tired, hungry and severely annoyed. He narrowed his eyes, trying to find the tact that he knew he should act with in this situation. After a solid thirty seconds, it became apparent that he was not going to find it. “Can we cut the pleasantries?” he asked. “No one has told me anything about this supposed problem that you have. The sooner I can solve your problem, the sooner I can go home.”

The delegate’s eyes widened in surprise. He moved forward hesitantly, then back, before opening his mouth and saying hesitantly. “Ah, yes, that is, yes, that can be arranged.”

“Thank you,” Rodney said. From somewhere behind Rodney, Ronon gripped Rodney’s shoulder and Rodney took strength from it.

The delegate introduced himself in long monotonous tones as Breyn, there as representative of the president of Tremoia, the planet on which Rodney and Ronon now found themselves. Rodney shot a look at Ronon at the first clue to where they were, but Ronon’s lips were pressed into a thin line that didn’t indicate good things.

He talked as everyone, his military contingent, the contingent from the plane, everyone, began walking along the road towards what Rodney assumed was the main town. “We’re sorry to have gotten your assistance in such a manner. However, our agents have determined from multiple sources that you are the person to go to if there is a technological issue,” Breyn said, managing a thin smile at Rodney. When Rodney didn’t say anything, he hurried on. “For the last several years, our main power supply, which for hundreds of years has stayed constant, began declining. Our scientists have tried everything that they could think of to halt whatever has been causing the damage to no avail. At the moment, our shield, which is the only thing hiding and protecting our planet from the perils that have befallen other planets, has begun losing its power to such a degree that we expect we could be discovered in as little as a week.

“We have some weaponry, but we have seen what happens to other planets that are within the Wraith’s purview. We have no illusions about our ability to defend ourselves if that happens. So, you see, Dr. McKay, you are our best hope.”

Rodney wanted to groan, but heroically kept it inside. Of course, Rodney and Ronon would get kidnapped to an undetectable planet with a sob story so good that Rodney would be compelled to help. “I need assurances that you’ll let us go,” Rodney eventually ground out.

“Oh, of course,” Breyn said in a hurry. “You and your husband will be treated with the finest of respect while you are here and we will ensure that you are returned to your people.”

“We need to send a message to our teammates,” Ronon said.

Breyn looked pained. “I’m afraid that we can’t do that—we can’t risk sending out a message to anyone that’s not a Tremoian. We risk complete and total discovery.” He looked so beseeching that Rodney felt himself give way, despite his better judgment.

Rodney looked over at Ronon, who was glaring at him. Rodney closed his eyes and pretended that he didn’t see it. “Fine,” he said, already regretting it.

Breyn took Ronon and Rodney to eat first—a sumptuous feast had been prepared for them. Glazed meat, roasted vegetables, even something that looked like crisp french fries that had Rodney’s mouthwatering.

Rodney had initially planned to go see the power source before doing anything else so that he could properly evaluate what he was up against. But when they walked into the tall, cathedral-like building to see the food laid out on giant tables in the middle of the great hall, Rodney immediately gave in. “Maybe just a quick snack,” Rodney said upon seeing the room.

Ronon snorted. “It’s nice to know some things stay the same.” But Ronon moved over towards the food just as quickly, piling his plate high and coming to sit next to Rodney who had grabbed the first couple things that looked good and figured he could always go back for more.

“Have you heard of this place?” Rodney asked. Ronon’s face said all Rodney needed to know. “Oh no, how bad is it?”

“It’s not bad—Tremoia has always been a myth. We hear rumors of their people—people claim to have seen them or traded with them, but there’s never any evidence. They’re technologically advanced, but they keep to themselves. Or they killed each other hundreds of years ago in a civil war. If they ever existed.”

“Well, I think that we can note for the records that they officially exist,” Rodney said. “What’s the plan here?”

“Honestly, I think that the plan is that we eat dinner and then wait until they relax. Right now, we’re being watched by about twenty guards. Inside. And I’m sure even more outside.”

Rodney sighed. “Fine. But only because I’m hungry.”

Ronon, already having dug into his food, made a loud and gratuitous noise of appreciation and they both took a few minutes to chow down. “Quinta,” Ronon said a few minutes later as he munched upon a large drumstick about half the size of Rodney’s thigh. “I haven’t had quinta since Sateda.”

“For informational purposes, how large is a quinta?” Rodney asked. Ronon held out his arms, indicating a size of about four feet. Yikes. When Ronon saw the look on Rodney’s face, he started laughing, and for one moment, it felt almost normal—just another dinner back on Atlantis.

But then, other people began sitting down around them, introducing themselves and their function—they were of relatively high importance within the Tremoian government, secretaries and undersecretaries, directors and assistant directors. They all seemed fascinated by Rodney and Ronon but cautious, as if Rodney or Ronon might jump up and start attacking them. If that was what they were expecting, Rodney felt like they likely would be pretty disappointed.

When they did work up the courage to talk to Ronon or Rodney, they each seemed exceptionally apologetic but made no move to stop the guards who followed Rodney and Ronon around whenever they moved to get more food. Guards stayed posted at all entrances into the large hall, their eyes never leaving Rodney and Ronon.

Breyn made conversation while Rodney and Ronon ate, sparing no mind when either Rodney or Ronon left to get more food. Ronon, unsurprisingly, said little. Rodney talked back, trying to see what he could gleam about their society. The Tremoians were obviously quite technologically advanced, having much better usage of space travel than most of the Pegasus inhabitants. Their weapons seemed sufficiently capable of damage, enough so that Rodney didn’t want to test their limits using himself as a guinea pig.

He learned that the Tremoians largely harvested their food through artificial means—various labs through the planet set up to produce fruits, vegetables and artificial meat. Both Ronon and Rodney perked up at that one. They’d had some luck with artificial meat back on Atlantis but it wasn’t quite the same—especially not as good as whatever happened to be a quinta.

Eventually, upon finishing dinner, a group of soldiers came forward, led by Captain Rowen’s familiar young-looking face. “Dr. McKay, if you’ll come with me. We would like to take you to the central power repository,” she said, smiling hesitantly.

Rodney looked back at Ronon and Captain Rowen rushed in, saying, “Of course, we will take Ronon to his rooms and make sure that he is comfortable until you get back.”

“No,” Ronon said, his voice deep and immovable, sending shivers down Rodney’s back. “I’m going with him.”

Captain Rowen opened her mouth with some reluctance. “I’m not certain…”

Ronon gripped Rodney’s hand, warm and safe, and it sent tingles up Rodney’s arm so that Rodney couldn’t help but look down at where they joined. “Where he goes, I go.” Ronon said.

Breyn stepped up and cleared his throat. “Of course,” Captain Rowen said and Rodney felt profoundly grateful for Breyn, even though he’d spent the last hour somewhat cursing his existence.

Ronon didn’t let go of Rodney’s hand during their walk through the city. Rodney didn’t make any move to do the same. He’d touched Ronon before, casual contact as they passed each other weapons or food or random ancient technology. He’d hugged Ronon before, but it had been in a teammate-like manner or maybe as a friend. This was—this was new. The feeling of Ronon’s skin, warm against Rodney’s, carefully covering Rodney’s, as if through this one place, Ronon could protect all of Rodney.

It was certainly something that only helped their deception, Rodney reminded himself. Ronon had always been the smarter of the two about how to actually interact with people and get his way. All he had to do normally was bat those green eyes at someone and things magically fell into place.

The buildings ran closely together in the Tremoian city—each of them metallic and gleaming in the late sun. Some of the buildings shot straight up—like standard skyscrapers. Some pulled back at each story, resembling nothing so much as a ziggurat. All of the edges sleekly curved, gentling the appearances.

Rodney reluctantly let go of Ronon’s hand once they were shown into a large silver building, rising roughly five stories into the air, and styled in an impersonal and severe manner. When they entered, a group of three—two men and one woman, all roughly in their fifties, stood waiting for them.

Captain Rowen quickly introduced the three—the two men as Dr. Navin and Dr. Croln and the woman as Dr. Treiun. The scientists took over from there, explaining their respective findings with the respect to the power source as they began to lead Rodney and Ronon (and their half-dozen men-strong military escort) down into the bowels of the building. They used a lot of words to say that they had no idea how their power source operated or why it suddenly kept decreasing.

As they descended down stairs and through to a long hallway, Rodney couldn’t help but notice the truth to their words—he saw how the lights on the walls dimmed and then brightened on an irregular basis, showing material deficiencies in usage.

Eventually, at the end of the long, white hallway, the scientists led Rodney and Ronon through a doorway into a round room with a raised dais in the middle upon which a huge cluster of purple crystals roughly the size of an elephant stood with cables leading up from the top of the crystals and through to the ceiling after which they disappeared. They were similar to the ZPMs that Rodney had seen before, but never on such a large scale and never in such a formation.

On the portion of the rounded wall nearest to the door, several large computers were embedded into the wall, with screens displaying a variety of constantly changing information. Dr. Navin began to explain the computers but Rodney tuned him out as he went over to examine the computers. Quickly he worked out that the computers told him information that he already knew—the crystals were not producing enough energy to meet the output required.

Rodney spent a few minutes familiarizing himself with the computer. As with all new technology, it was all about getting the hang of how to use it—if only he had his computer with him and could analyze this using his own programs! He’d have to reprogram everything to figure anything out and was already starting to sift through the system, when suddenly Ronon spoke. “Is the power in danger of failing tonight?”

“Er—well, no,” Dr. Croln said. “But—”

“Will people die if we don’t fix it tonight?”

“No,” Dr. Croln said, looking to his fellows for support.

“Good, then we need to get some sleep,” Ronon said, his voice definitive and brooking no argument. Captain Rowen and doctors seemed to have a hurried silent conversation before Captain Rowen cleared her throat.

“Yes, that makes sense,” she said. “Doctor McKay, Mr. Dex, we will take you to your lodging now.”

Absurdly, Rodney wanted to reach out for Ronon’s hand on their walk to yet another place, although this one was close by—no more than a five-minute walk amongst the gleaming buildings that the Jetsons might have enjoyed. Rodney resisted the impulse, keeping his hands close to his body through the walk through the city, trying to avoid the other pedestrians who stared at Rodney and Ronon. They went into one of those ziggurat buildings up through several flights of stairs. After what seemed like an eternity, they exited onto the fifth floor and shown to a room that likely passed as a suite.

Their room was divided into a large sleeping area and then a closed area that Rodney could only hope was a toilet. Unsurprisingly, the room possessed only tiny windows or vents that were nowhere near large enough to try and escape through. Well, a man could hope.

There was a large mat in the middle of the sleeping area, big enough for two, and Rodney threw a glance at Ronon as Captain Rowen sketched out the facilities available in the closed off area and told them that there were clothes for them in a small dresser in the back of the room. With her job done, she bid them goodnight and let them know that she or another captain would be back in the morning to pick them up.

Once she closed the door, Rodney clumsily sat down on the mat as, all at once, the day’s events caught up to him.

“Is it absurd to say that I wish that we were back home?” Rodney said.

Ronon took a seat as well, arranging himself cross-legged and facing Rodney, and he reached out to grasp Rodney’s hands. “No, absolutely not,” he said, his eyes intent and glinting in the variable light. “I also want to be back home.” Something in Rodney’s chest bloomed warm at Ronon’s use of home. Ronon had been their teammate for so long that it felt like he had always been there—a guard and friend who always stepped up—but Rodney had wondered if Ronon considered Atlantis his home or just his safe haven.

Ronon leaned in, his face serious and focused. “Rodney, I need you to know that I will protect you. No matter what, I will make sure that you’re safe.”

“I will protect you too,” Rodney blurted out, before he could stop himself. “I probably can’t win any physicality competitions, but you’ve got someone watching your back.”

“I know,” Ronon said and he smiled at Rodney, making Rodney’s chest turn even warmer.

Bedtime turned into a slightly awkward affair—the realities of their marriage falsehood abundantly clear with the single mat to sleep on. But Ronon treated it like he did any other situation, with complete equanimity as if he slept next to Rodney every other night. Rodney, who felt materially more awkward about it despite the fact that they’d often slept in similar situations (just not announced as a bed for a couple), told himself to stop being an idiot and just be casual.

“Are you ok?” Ronon said as Rodney tried to settle into the farthest edge of the mat.

“Yes, fine.”

Ronon sat up, squinting at Rodney. “Well, you’re going to roll off the mat in the first five minutes after you fall asleep.”

Rodney did have a propensity to move around in his sleep and he flushed in the darkness. “Ah, that’s,” he started and then, at Ronon’s expectant silence, he started moving himself more towards the center of the mat. When he was almost halfway, he stopped. Even through the air, he could feel the close warmth of Ronon’s body just a few inches away and Rodney both wanted to move closer and move away, but forced himself to hold there.

Ronon dropped off after that, his breathing evening out as Rodney stared up at the ceiling. He wished that he could say that he was thinking about the Tremoian ZPM crisis. Instead, he thought of Ronon, right next to him, and Ronon’s hand gripping his through this strange, new city.

Any hopes of a quick solution faded the next morning when Rodney really got into the Tremoian computer system. Their ZPM equivalents didn’t behave much like the ZPMs that Rodney was familiar with, except for that it functioned as a power source. Unlike normal ZPMs which derived their power from utilizing zero-point energy from artificially created subspaces, this seemed to be using something even more exotic.

The Tremoian scientists were not much help—although they utilized the power source, they didn’t know anything of its origins—other than that it had been there since time immemorial and had been always used as a source of power.

Rodney couldn’t even understand—imagine the audacity to have such an amazing source of energy right in front of you and never try to figure it out!

In lieu of immediate answers, Rodney set about running a series of experiments and models on the power source to give him further information, throwing himself into writing the code needed until Ronon stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder that nudged Rodney out of his zone.

“What?” Rodney said, his initial annoyed response fading on his tongue when he saw that it was Ronon.

“Lunch,” Ronon said.

“Lunch,” Rodney agreed.

And so it went. That night when they went to bed, Rodney lay in the near-middle on purpose and the surprise of Ronon’s nearness faded into something more appreciative—Rodney could smell Ronon, soap from the shower, leather and a faint trace of something woodsy that reminded Rodney of Canada for some strange reason. Ronon’s presence gathered around Rodney and it relieved Rodney to take deep breaths of it, lulling him to sleep.

Much to Rodney’s embarrassment, he woke the next morning pressed up to Ronon, his face buried in Ronon’s shoulder blades and one of Ronon’s legs had snaked between Rodney’s, keeping him pulled close. When Rodney tried to pull back, Ronon’s leg gripped Rodney’s like a vise. Rodney didn’t want to risk waking up Ronon, so he rolled over onto his back and had a slight freak-out in the direction of the ceiling.

“Stop that,” Ronon said eventually, yawning and then rolling out of bed. He wore only a pair of loose-fitting pants and Rodney watched Ronon’s back as he walked to the dresser. Rodney was only aware of the broad expanse of skin, scarred, and the strong muscles that flexed underneath it. Anyone with eyes would _want_ and Rodney had eyes.

“You getting up?” Ronon said. “We should do some sparring before those people come to get us.”

Rodney swallowed and then forced himself to think about Ronon’s statement. “Do we have to?” he said, groaning, but he was already pushing himself up and starting to shove the bedding out of the way. They spent thirty minutes wrestling, Ronon letting Rodney pin him down as he critiqued Rodney’s form and then made him do it all over again.

Rodney couldn’t shake this new awareness (or more accurately, more awareness—again, Rodney had eyes) and it took significant work and determination to keep this revelation from being as evident to Ronon as it was to Rodney.

When Captain Rowen and her team met them later, Ronon took Rodney’s hand and Captain Rowen’s eyes flickered to it before she smiled at them.

Day three was the same as day two—more data analysis, more running of models, trying to figure out what the fundamental nature of the power source was. Despite his annoyance, to put it mildly, about the whole abduction scenario, the increasing sense of desperation that the other scientists broadcasted began to touch Rodney.

“I actually want to help them,” Rodney said that night when he and Ronon were in their room.

“Of course you do, you like helping people.”

Rodney startled at that. “I don’t like helping people,” he said. “I love solving problems. And being the best. And discovering new things by which to pave my legacy.”

Ronon raised a skeptical eyebrow at that. “So, when you helped John to fix up the defunct puddle jumpers?”

“Those are used for integral travel and defense.”

“When you watched Torren for Teyla so she and Kanaan could have time to themselves?”

“No one wants a teammate who is overtired and overworked.”

“When you edited Zelenka’s work to send back to one of your publications?”

Rodney stared at Ronon. How did Ronon know about Rodney’s editing of Zelenka’s paper? “I’m not nice,” Rodney said, the words coming out petulant, and Ronon threw his head back and laughed, deep and full. Rodney wanted to reach out and run his fingers over Ronon’s face, feel his throat as his muscles moved, _wanted_.

“We’re agreed on that. You are not nice,” Ronon said. “But you do help the people around you. I see you do it. I like that about you.”

Rodney wanted to say something but feared what might come out of his mouth. He cast about for something to express the tidal wave in his chest, the complex maze of things that he felt for Ronon, but there was no string to lead him to his goal and after too much time had passed, he only managed a simple “Thank you.”

Ronon didn’t seem to expect more than that, but when they went to bed shortly after, Rodney felt something palpable in the air, the weight of his unsaid words and deeds lying between them.

The next day, Rodney examined the data from the power source for the millionth time. The gravitational waves were off the chart and their variability seemed to correspond with the fluctuations throughout the city. Dr. Treiun, looking at the data as well, had been suggesting solutions that were increasingly not just unlikely but improbable, and Rodney found himself distracted. Not for the first time that day or even that hour, Rodney thought about Ronon, who felt just as enigmatic as the data in front of him. Like a black box out of which came things like “I like that about you” and hand-holding.

And then, it clicked. “It’s a localized partial Ewing trestle!” Rodney said, gesturing wildly for Dr. Treiun to look. “I’ve heard it hypothesized, but never actually seen evidence that it exists. The trestle allows for the output of energy through the breakdown of quantum strings, but the problem here is that the trestle has begun collapsing.”

Dr. Treiun looked confused, but hopeful, and Dr. Nevin and Dr. Croln quickly came to stand by Rodney as he went through his hypothesis. “Obviously this will need further testing and we’ll need to figure out how we can possibly stop the collapse of the Ewing trestle, but at least we’ve got a place to start.” Once Rodney explained the concept, the scientists completely agreed—Dr. Treiun pointing out that they could probably trace the cause of breakdown by measuring how the gravitational waves were varying. Dr. Nevin and Dr. Croln immediately began writing new programs now that they understood what they were looking for. Rodney couldn’t stop smiling—they’d finally taken a step forward.

When Rodney looked over at Ronon, who had stopped conversation with the guards near the entrance, Ronon gave him a questioning look. Rodney gave a thumbs up back.

“I know next to nothing about these stupid trestles,” Rodney complained that night as he and Ronon helped themselves to another delicious buffet. “I once read a highly suspicious article in the International Journal of Theoretical Physics that I completely wrote off due to the complete incoherence and incorrect physics of the author. I wish I could go back and shake myself.”

“But you remembered it—that’s all that really matters,” Ronon said. “Besides, if it’s as bad as you thought it was, they probably would have gotten it all wrong and then you’d be starting in a worse position.”

“That is true,” Rodney said, brightening. By mutual agreement, he and Ronon headed to an empty table. The first few days, they had taken their meals with large groups of people that insisted on introducing themselves to Rodney just so that he could immediately forget their name as they fawned over him before Rodney had figured out how to time meals to avoid all of them. He’d always thought that he wanted large amounts of fawning and it came as a bitter shock to realize that he would rather have the usual sarcasm and casual disrespect of Atlantis.

Ronon munched down on his food, making appreciative sounds that affected Rodney in not an insignificant way. “You’ve got—” Rodney gestured to the gravy on Ronon’s face. Ronon looked up and used his thumb to wipe where Rodney pointed and then—of course—sucked the gravy off his thumb. Rodney groaned and buried his head in his arms.

“Hey, look, you will figure it out. You’ve already done more than anyone else here could.” Ronon’s tone was pure confidence and it heartened Rodney.

“I suppose I will,” Rodney said.

“Good,” Ronon said. “Now eat some more food.” Rodney looked down at his largely untouched plate of food. Ronon kept staring at him so Rodney accepted defeat and began to eat.

That night, Rodney dreamt of Atlantis, her gleaming spires under attack by the Wraith, John and his marines fighting in the skies as chaos unfolded in the sirens and screams in the city. Rodney needed to get to the weapons bay to reroute the shield in order to send off a burst of energy to fry the Wraith equipment—he knew the right frequency, he just needed to get there. But the hallway kept branching into new areas of Atlantis, taking him farther and farther from his destination, and the screams and sirens kept coming.

Atlantis was on the verge of destruction when Ronon shook Rodney awake, Rodney’s breath coming in gasping pants. Rodney came to himself with Ronon’s low voice saying Rodney’s name with urgency and Rodney couldn’t help but bury his face in the warm safety of Ronon’s shoulder.

“It was Atlantis. They—they were dying without us. I couldn’t save them—I couldn’t make it in time.” Rodney’s heart kept beating so rapidly, it hurt, and he could still see the faces of people as they cried out for help, Rodney unable to help. 

Ronon shushed Rodney and let Rodney gulp at air until the dream fog receded, although the panic remained in Rodney’s chest.

“What if something happens while we’re gone?” Rodney asked, the words out before he could stop them.

“They are in capable hands,” Ronon said. “Even if not quite as capable as yours.”

“What if we never get back?” Rodney said, his voice cracking on his fear.

“We will,” Ronon said and he pulled back to look at Rodney, the dim light in the room enough to make out his features. “Rodney, I promise you that we will get out of here.”

Neither of them said anything and the moment stretched taut. As Rodney stared at Ronon, he catalogued the feel of Ronon against him—the wiry hair spread across Ronon’s chest, the firm abdominal muscles below Rodney’s fingers. Rodney licked his bottom lip and Ronon’s gaze flitted down to Rodney’s lips before looking back.

The moment stretched out—taut—and Rodney _wanted_. He _wanted_ so badly that he felt brave enough to potentially risk their friendship and try. The way that Ronon looked at him—his eyes dark and serious, Rodney leaned in and then Ronon surged forward, bringing their mouths together, kissing Rodney who eagerly opened up beneath him, desperately wanting more. They rutted together, Rodney’s tongue in Ronon’s mouth as he moaned, and Ronon pushed down both of their shorts and withdrew their cocks. They kept moving, harsh panting breaths in between kisses, until time seemed to lose all meaning. They could have been there for minutes or hours when Ronon bit at the underside of Rodney’s jaw and Rodney came between them, Ronon’s name a prayer on his lips.

Ronon pulled back and firmly grasped himself, stroking his cock a few more times until he came over Rodney’s chest, his eyes never leaving Rodney’s face, half collapsing onto Rodney once he’d finished.

Ronon pressed a series of small, open-mouthed kisses on Rodney’s jaw before wrapping an arm around Rodney to move him even closer—although Rodney hadn’t really thought that possible. Rodney took a deep breath and turned to face Ronon, finding his mouth and they kissed lazily until Rodney felt like he needed to clean himself up.

“I’m just going to—go clean myself up,” Rodney said and made his way to the bathroom. When Rodney looked back, Ronon had pushed himself up and was watching Rodney move, clear appreciation on his face. Rodney felt his face heat up and some unvoiced fear eased in his chest. It wasn’t that he thought Ronon would—would pity-fuck him—but Ronon could have pretty much anyone and to think that he wanted, actually wanted, Rodney seemed miraculous. Joyous, even, and Rodney beamed all the way through cleaning himself up.

He brought a wet towel back for Ronon and once Ronon finished, he kissed Rodney deeply before laying down and tucking Rodney against him.

This time, when Rodney fell asleep, if he dreamed, it was only of warmth and the feeling of fresh sun on his face with Ronon next to him.

The next morning, Rodney braced himself for awkwardness, but Ronon seemed to have decided that there would be no awkwardness and that he was completely comfortable with displays of affection—kissing Rodney good morning (and letting it turn from a chaste acknowledgement into something deeper and more tantalizing) and casually touching Rodney, directing Rodney here and there. Rodney walked on air the entire day.

Rodney made some progress that day, Dr. Croln and Dr. Treiun bouncing ideas off of each other—they needed to stabilize the Ewing trestle and had come up with several thoughts that merited further modeling. Unfortunately, modeling took time and so for the first time since Rodney had arrived, he found himself with nothing to do by late afternoon.

“Can we take a walk?” Ronon asked the guards that he’d been playing cards with. Ronon had somehow managed to make friends—it felt like he made friends everywhere he went—and they’d started playing cards a few days in so that Ronon could stave off boredom. He’d also been trying to talk them into sparring with him. If they ended up staying on Tremoia much longer, Ronon would probably get his way.

“I can’t see why you can’t,” the alternate captain, Captain Vyain, said, and the rest of the guards started preparing to head out.

Rodney wanted to protest—he wasn’t in the mood for a walk but the look on excitement on Ronon’s face reminded Rodney that while Rodney had been playing with computers and gadgets to his heart’s content, Ronon had patiently waited and done nothing for the past five days.

Ronon looked at Rodney expectantly, so Rodney put a smile on his face and headed over to Ronon.

In the middle of the city, a series of canals had been built, with walking paths alongside them. As they started walking, Rodney glimpsed other people walking, people with children or couples holding hands and Rodney looked down at Ronon’s hand, swinging by his side. Rodney tried to will himself to courage, to remind himself of how brave Ronon was, but the distance felt insurmountable and Rodney turned his head away, cowardice spreading cold through him.

And then, he felt a nudging at his left hand, Ronon reaching out and carefully threading his fingers through Rodney’s.

“There was a river near where I grew up, on the outskirts of our town,” Ronon said, looking fondly at the water. “I spent so much time there—my mother joked that I would become a fish when I grew up instead of a man.”

“That sounds really nice,” Rodney said. He’d learned how to swim, like every other kid out there, but no one had been calling him to join the swim team. “It would be fun to go swimming now.”

“You should come with me when we go swimming on Atlantis,” Ronon said.

Rodney stared at Ronon. “People go swimming in the ocean there? Isn’t that dangerous? It feels very dangerous.”

Ronon smiled and shook his head, as if he found Rodney so ridiculous, he couldn’t help but laugh. “There’s a small protected area off one of the bays that Sheppard has named Santa Monica Pier. When the weather is nice, someone gets picked to supervise and we go swimming there.”

“Is there anything else that you’re hiding about Atlantis—I can’t believe that no one ever told me about this!”

“Do you like swimming?” Ronon asked.

“That is entirely besides the point.” Rodney wanted to be affronted but Ronon squeezed his hand a little in apology and Rodney squeezed back in return.

That night, Rodney felt infused with delicious anticipation as they headed back to their room. He couldn’t do anything—not with six members of the Tremoia military surrounding them—but he couldn’t stop looking at Ronon’s mouth, Ronon’s chest, wondering what it would be like to take his time exploring Ronon, running his hands over Ronon’s skin and feeling Ronon’s muscles. He thought about what it would be like to have Ronon above him, pressing down onto him, letting his weight settle around Rodney and almost had a disastrous moment in public.

When it was finally, _finally_, just the two of them alone in their room. Rodney took a step towards Ronon and said, “I hope that I’m reading this right, because I really want to get your clothes off.”

Ronon grinned, smile tinged with an edge of lust, and took off his shirt in response.

“Wow,” Rodney said. “Just wow. Is it ok if I say that I want to eat off those abs? Because I really do.”

Ronon grinned and crowded Rodney back into the wall. “Your turn,” he said and Rodney let Ronon pull his shirt over his head and when he kissed his way down Rodney’s chest, detouring at each of Rodney’s nipples, before unbuttoning Rodney’s pants, Rodney realized he had died and gone to heaven.

“I am the luckiest man alive,” Rodney said, some time later as they lay, hair mussed and limbs akimbo, on the floor.

“It’s a nice change of pace from you saying that you’re the smartest man alive,” Ronon said, but his eyes danced with laughter and good spirit suffused Rodney, so he just shifted closer to Ronon and let himself fall asleep.

Their days took on a dream-like, wondrous quality and except for the benevolent imprisonment, Rodney would have believed that this was some magical world that he had fallen into and might never wake up from. But then, ten days in, Rodney had a breakthrough in his modeling.

“We’ll be able to stabilize the Ewing trestle,” Rodney said, the surprise at going through the data written on his face. Even Ronon and the guards surrounded Rodney, looking at his large screen, while Dr. Nevin gulped nervously. “And I think that we have a way to do it—but we’ll need to remove it from all power that the crystals are supplying while we stabilize it.”

Unsurprisingly, the Tremoians were not especially inclined towards turning off their shields. Although the other scientists could see the truth in what Rodney was proposing, Captain Vyain outright accused Rodney of sabotage—of trying to turn off the shields so that the Lanteans could attack.

A military squad frog-marched Rodney and Ronon back to their room and even though Rodney had started to think of it as their bedroom, it was especially apparent now that it was fundamentally a cell.

Rodney placed his head in his hands. Ronon didn’t try to offer platitudes—instead coming to sit next to Rodney and wrapping an arm around him.

Rodney and Ronon were in the middle of sparring when Captain Rowen opened up their door a few hours later. Her face serious, she announced that the Tremoian council had agreed to try Dr. McKay’s methods. No one said anything else as they walked back to the power repository, Rodney just as keenly aware of the risks and dangers that he was potentially creating for the Tremoians.

Drs. Nevin, Croln and Treiun had already started to prepare the modified-ZPM, but they all looked relieved when Rodney entered the room. More than a few other high-ranking government officials that Rodney had been introduced to at some point gathered at the far end of the room, their eyes concerned, but Rodney made himself turn away and ignore them.

“Everything is ready,” Dr. Nevin said and then moved out of the way so that Rodney could seat himself at the main computer, where he would turn off all power and then initiate a fission sequence that, if Rodney had gotten anything wrong, could destroy not just this room, but half the city.

With all eyes on Rodney, he sat down and pulled up the programs that he needed. Taking a deep breath, he instructed the system to turn off all power coming from the modified-ZPM. The Tremoians had inserted a localized power source which allowed the computer to draw upon that power instead of the ZPM. Once the computer showed that the ZPM was not exporting any energy, Rodney initiated the fission sequence.

The crystals gleamed so brightly, purple seared itself on Rodney’s retinas and he closed his eyes in pain. When he opened it again, the top of the crystals began turning white, the white spreading slowly and then more quickly downwards, eventually rushing down the base of the crystals before the light flared out. Rodney heard a crackling sound, like a giant roll of bubble wrap being popped, the pops getting closer and closer together until it came together in a loud bang that jolted the room.

The light faded completely and Rodney’s heart leapt into his chest, his breath stopping along with everyone else’s in the room. He counted out the seconds—one, two, three, four—and then, on five, with a whoosh like a current of water, the crystals beamed out brightly again, the purple gleaming and welcoming and Rodney thought that he might pass out right there out of sheer relief.

“Dr. McKay, the power is stabilized,” Dr. Treiun called, her voice cracking with emotion. “It has completely stabilized.”

A cheer went up around the room, people crying and yelling with happiness, and a strong pair of arms circled Rodney from behind pulling him in tight.

“I told you,” Ronon said.

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say?” Rodney asked, but then they were kissing and any retort was lost.

Now that the shield was secure, Captain Rowen let Rodney send out an encrypted message to Atlantis, informing them where he and Ronon were. And not an hour later, Captain Rowen informed Rodney and Ronon that they had received a gate request.

Teyla looked like she might cry from happiness when they came through. Rodney couldn’t say that he was much far off from that. John immediately pulled Ronon and Rodney into a group hug and Teyla came around the back, enclosing them in a John-and-Teyla sandwich and Rodney did cry a little bit then. Even John’s eyes looked a little wet when they finally separated.

“You don’t know how worried we were,” John said. “Ronon’s message was unclear, so we spent the last two weeks shaking down everyone trying to find some lead. But it was like you’d vanished into thin air.”

The Tremoians, for their part, seemed apologetic (although not apologetic enough to have refrained from kidnapping Rodney and Ronon) but John didn’t stop glaring at them.

Breyn, as diplomatic as ever, made plenty of apologies also throwing a few scattered hopes for future trade and prosperity. “And of course, as thanks, we are ever at your service,” he said. Ronon glared at him for that. Rodney thought that it might not be a bad idea to have another culture that had decent technology, especially with cloaking, that owed them a few favors.

“Maybe you might try asking us for the favor in advance, pal,” John said under his breath. 

At the stargate, Rodney and Ronon said goodbye to Captain Rowen, Breyn and the scientists. Rodney wouldn’t go as far as to say that he liked them, but he’d become a little fond of them and their desire to protect their people, so to speak. Who was to say that he wouldn’t do the same if it was the only way to save Atlantis or John and Teyla or Ronon…?

Rodney forced his mind back from places that it shouldn’t wander. “Thank you, Breyn, Captain Rowen, Dr. Nevin, Dr. Treiun, Dr. Croln.”

“It is we who should be thanking you,” Breyn said as Captain Rowen held back a knowing smile.

She cleared her throat after a second and looked at Rodney and Ronon. “It is a joy to see a union such as yours,” she said. “Your light and love is an inspiration. I have greatly enjoyed getting to be in you and your husband’s company.”

Rodney stood ramrod straight and risked a glance at Teyla, who had raised her eyebrows in bemusement, but she met Rodney’s eyes and her smile contained little surprise. John, on the other hand, looked like it hadn’t even registered, or if it had, then he’d interpreted it as yet another odd Pegasus quirk. Maybe he’d just keep thinking that forever…

Rodney didn’t dare look over at Ronon.

Immediately upon arriving in Atlantis, Dr. Keller and her team descended upon Rodney and Ronon, testing them for every available disease. Rodney had his blood drawn, body scanned, more blood drawn, blood pressure taken, mouth examined and some preventative shots for good measure before she pronounced him good to go.

Rodney took a look around the medical bay and failed to see Ronon. “Where did Ronon go?” he asked as casually as possible.

“Oh, he finished earlier,” Dr. Keller said, already turning and putting equipment away, ready to move onto her next task. “That tends to happen when you don’t protest all the procedures we’re running to make sure that you’re as healthy as we hope.”

“I maintain that no one needs that much blood for routine procedures,” Rodney said and this time when Dr. Keller turned to look at him, she casually pulled out another syringe, so Rodney left before she could threaten to use it on him.

But then, once Rodney left the medical bay, he hesitated about where to head to. Surely, if Ronon had wanted to speak with him, he would have waited for Rodney. What if Ronon thought that what happened on Tremoia stayed on Tremoia? Even worse, what if Ronon regretted what had happened on Tremoia?

Rodney wanted to go to Ronon, the hope in his chest still there, faintly glowing, but the thought of Ronon opening the door to him, pity spread across his face felt too preemptively painful.

“Rodney,” Teyla said, coming up beside him and taking his arm. “For someone who was so excited to come back to Atlantis, you seem remarkably unhappy now.”

Rodney protested, but a look from Teyla silenced him and she gently directed him towards the residential rooms where they would have more privacy. Once they left the main control room and entered a deserted hallway, Rodney sighed.

“What if I made a really big mistake?” he asked Teyla. “Or what if I was the mistake? Everything only happened because Ronon needed to tell them something so that they would take him as well. He panicked and told them that we were married. It snowballed from there.”

Teyla looked over at Rodney. “Somehow, I think that Ronon could have found other reasons that would have allowed him to accompany you. Maybe there was a reason that a romantic relationship was the first thing that leapt to mind.”

“But what if it wasn’t?”

“Then we will find a way to move on.”

When they turned the last corridor for Rodney’s room, Ronon leaned by Rodney’s door, his posture relaxed.

“I—” Rodney started. Ronon cast an unwelcome eye on Teyla who repressed a smile.

“I think that I will hear about Tremoia another time,” Teyla said. “Good night, Rodney, Ronon.”

Atlantis opened up Rodney’s door, Rodney’s fingers clenching nervously as Ronon followed him into the room. As soon as the door closed, Ronon drew Rodney close, the heat from Ronon’s body searing Rodney’s skin everywhere they touched and Rodney couldn’t help but lean into it, desperate for more.

When Ronon kissed him, it was slow and deep and measured—an especially welcome greeting after what felt like a long day of work. After a while, Rodney pulled back and wrapped his arms around Ronon, feeling the physicality of Ronon and knowing that it was Ronon he held in his arms. “When you were gone after the check-up, I thought that you regretted what had happened on Tremoia.”

Ronon pulled back at that. “Why would you think that?” Rodney heard the hurt and confusion in his voice.

“I was scared that it was just a Tremoian thing to you. A stranded-in-Bermuda’s triangle hook-up.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Ronon said, affronted. And then a pause. “Would you do that to me?”

“No, never,” Rodney said. “But you’re—well, you’re you.”

“And you’re you,” Ronon said. He brought his hands up and cupped Rodney’s face. “Brilliant, sexy.”

Rodney’s face flamed at that. “Sexy?” Ronon drew him close again, directing him towards the very comfortable bed that was about to experience hopefully the first of many fine hours.

Rodney felt that after everything, he was owed a lazy morning the next day, and so was more than a little annoyed to hear someone knocking on his door at way too ungodly of an hour. Before Rodney could tell Ronon to just let the idiot at the door tire themselves out, Ronon stood up and walked to the door, giving Rodney an impressive view. One that almost made the early hour worth it.

“Sheppard,” Ronon said, partially opening up the door. From the bed, Rodney could see John’s face and the knowledge of what he saw rippled across it.

With all the self-righteousness of surprise, John gasped. “What on earth—wait. Yesterday, they said husband. I thought that was some obscure Pegasus reference that I hadn’t learned yet. Were they—are you—” He fumbled with words for a few minutes, looking like his head was about to explode. It was nice to be on the other side of that for once. 

“Goodbye,” Ronon said after a few more seconds of John casting about and then closed the door. Rodney grinned so hard, it hurt.

“I think that we deserve a morning in bed,” Rodney said.

“I said that you were brilliant,” Ronon said, his grin laced with intent and Rodney felt something dark and wonderful stirring in response.


End file.
